


Defective Detectives

by PlaguedParadox



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blog Style, Blogging, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaguedParadox/pseuds/PlaguedParadox
Summary: A blog belonging to Kathryn Ness, a blood analyst for New Scotland Yard, a friend of John Watson and new neighbour to him and Sherlock Holmes. Mystery, murder, friendship, romance, there are many things that can happen to these defective detectives.[This is an old completed story from QuoteV but I'll be adding it here in chunks]





	1. A New Job and a New Blog

Life is... unpredictable, to say the least. You never expect for things to change, that your routine is thrown out of line just by a simple string of events. You expect things to happen and make them happen to your expectations, or at least try to; it's a basic human way of living, but not as basic as fight or flight, I have a hard time believing that there is anything more basic than that simple set of instincts.

  
I'm getting ahead of myself, I'm Kathryn Ness, I analyse blood for a living! A bit like Dexter but less... murder, well at least from me that is. I currently reside in the US but I'm moving to the UK as I have been given a new job, also I hope to get back in touch with an old friend of mine, John Watson. I heard from his sister that he runs a very interesting blog, might check that out soon, and that he has a special friend I might meet once I move there. I believe his name is Sherlock Holmes, a 'consulting detective'. Apparently, he made the title up himself. The cheek of it... anyway! Enough rambling, I should be getting to the good parts! The main reason why I'm moving to the UK, as stated before is because of my new job, Scotland Yard has called me in to help them with a recent set of murders, they have nothing to go on, nothing but blood and the bodies. And I believe John just happened to mention that I was pretty good at what I do! That must be what happened, or someone has been keeping an eye on me... might have to look into that.  
Guess I should inform you about myself... I'm not normal, never have been, my mind works too fast... freak is a common insult thrown at me if you could even call it an insult, it's so weak. So unoriginal. So dull. I'm a sociopath, because of this, my 'team' (Which I should just call my babysitters because let's face it, I do all the work) keep an extra eye on me, possibly because they believe I might have murdered someone. Ha! I could murder someone and make sure no one finds out! I watched a lot of NCIS and CSI to say that. I'm proud of myself. I'm not really sure on what to call this... a blog? I guess that works...

  
Well, I better be getting some sleep or I'll miss my plane to England! UK and new life here I come!

 **Comments (4)**  
JohnWatson: Glad to see I'm not alone in making a blog.  
KathNess: I thought it would be suitable to record what might happen as I work for Scotland Yard. I did something similar while working with my old ‘team’.  
JohnWatson: Alrighty, well get some sleep, okay?  
KathNess: Will do! G’night Watson!


	2. Recruited by the Yard

Being back in England sure is a weird feeling, its bipolar weather, the freezing rain, the smell of tea and old brick... London in general. I haven't been here since I was a teenager. Had to move away after an incident with a homemade flamethrower... which was not my fault, there was a spider on the table and I hate spiders, so I stole a lighter and an aerosol and burnt the thing! This, in turn, set the table on fire and the teacher to faint... and then the room caught on fire which leads to the firemen having to put the fire out, but we didn't go to school for a month after they found a large spiders nest in the roof, which they wouldn't have found if the fire had not of started, but to stop any future bullying or embarrassment, I was sent to the US. Lucky no one found out about that incident until a couple of months ago, the stupid curious team leader was checking in on my past...

I had just gotten out of my silver Audi when the first insult was thrown at me. "FIRE FREAK!" It came from the third-floor errand girl that liked to flirt with my 'boss', her screeching voice gave me a headache almost instantly. Confused, I turned to look at her. Scarlet blouse tucked into a coal black dress skirt with heels and accessories to match. Overly fragrant perfume, eau de toilette, very cheap and over sprayed, trying to make an impression, too poor to afford Eau de parfum apparently. She's going on a date after work, someone who had a lot of money but is either modest with it or still has a lot of bills to pay, I'd say the latter, red lipstick stain on her teeth, she's been biting her lip, she's nervous, of course she would be, the date is most likely with my 'boss' who she's been trying to get with ever since his relationship with his fiancé failed miserably, she wanted someone with more personality, I can understand why he’s as dull as dishwater. Back to the errand girl... a speck of melted chocolate on the side of the lip, snacks when anxious but only ate a little bit, conscious about weight, perhaps because of the date, no, most likely because he likes sticks with legs, how pathetic, perfect match though. Pathetic girl for a pathetic man. So boring and predictable. No games to be had with those two. There never is, you can call those two my bullies if they had any effect on me that is. It concerned me about how she knew of the accident though.

The next insult came from a man who practically shared a desk with me. Most assumed it was because he fancied me, but that thought was soon completely abandoned when he showed his wedding ring off, that and he's gay. "Gonna set me on fire, huh freak? I don't know why they let you in here!" I glance at him, taking a good look at him for the first time. Female of the relationship, drama queen, loves attention, thinks himself higher than others. Has an expensive taste, designer brands including cologne, probably a present from his husband. He's unfaithful, takes his ring off two- no, three times a day before flirting with someone, outside is dirtier than inside, taken the ring off a lot but marriage is not unhappy, husband stays at home... drinker... doesn't give much attention but doesn't abuse… He’s doing this for attention, he’s usually quite tolerable, well from what I hear of him. I tend not to pay attention to my co-workers.

"To answer your question, no, I won't, it was one time, it was a spider, I don't know how you know about it but I don't care and they let me in here because I could replace all of the blood analysis team without even trying." That shut him up, so much for being a drama queen. 'Honestly, how boring... though it is almost funny how fast I get bored. I should entertain myself, but how. Experiments? No, equipment is too expensive to waste. Solve a case? No, none have been called in today, well, none that are not dull. Shoot something? I could always use the shooting range but I might just get insulted more and I don't want their stupid voices ringing through my skull. Make and analyse blood splatter patterns? Now we're talking, the 'blood' and 'body' are fairly easy and cheap to make so no waste apart from the cleanup.' And once again, after that moment I was insulted. By my 'boss' this time.

"Hey psycho, go and help the rest of the team!" How typical. Psychopath? I think not.

"Socio..."

"What?!" He growled, confused. 'How idiotic of him to mix up psycho and socio.'

  
"I'm a sociopath, not a psychopath… a psychopath would imply I am mentally ill."

  
"Whatever! Just go help out!" I've had enough of this.

  
"You know what-" I was cut off by my phone ringing. ‘Really? Right when I'm about to put this moron in his place?’ "One moment sir." I quickly press answer and put the phone up to my ear. "Kathryn Ness, blood splatter analyst, how may I help you?"

  
"Ah, hello Miss Ness. This is Detective Inspector Lestrade, I work for Scotland Yard, I've been asked to call you to inquire for your help in a case." Boring. "A string of murders with no clues apart from blood and the bodies. Your name has been mentioned and I looked into you, your help is needed because of your expertise. Do you accept?" Mr Lestrade speaks up. 'A case... with nothing but blood and the body! Now I'm interested. I wonder who mentioned me... most people do that in a negative light.'

  
"Yes I accept, I'll be in England tomorrow." I hang up after that. "Sir, I quit." I state as I collect my items and leave the building, time to pack.

  
That's what lead us to being in England, standing in Heathrow Airport with my luggage, wondering what to do next. "I should look for a place to stay, before heading to the Yard..." I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.

**I'm in England, Watson**   
**KN**

Lucky for me he replies fast.

**Oh? So Lestrade called you?**   
**JW**

'I should have known.'

**I should have realised only you would talk about me in a positive light, old friend.**   
**KN**

I mean it was rather obvious.

**Haha, yeah that was me, just sort of happened when they said they needed a better blood analyst, you'll need a place to stay, yeah? Try 221C Baker Street, it's available and has decent rent.**   
**JW**

‘221C... sounds familiar.’

**Will do, guessing that's near yours by the way you've mentioned it suddenly, so I will see you soon.**   
**KN**

**See you soon too, shortcake!**   
**JW**

Shortcake... the nickname he gave me after he realised he was taller than me, well that and I have a fondness for the dessert. 'Nothing has changed, I'm glad about that. He'd be boring if he changed.' I walk around for a little bit to stretch my legs, I despise flying, having to sit down for long hours with mind-numbing people. But luck was on my side during that flight as I had the window seat and the person near me was a shy old woman, she was nice, didn't talk too much and didn't judge me even when I went into my mind mansion, she, of course, interrupted me a few times as I had stopped breathing, a side effect of what happens when I enter my mind. I thanked her each time. Soon after walking towards the exit of the airport I spotted a man with greying hair holding a piece of paper with my name on it. Time for a quick deduction before I speak to him.

Estranged wife, clear from the now removed wedding ring as shown by the pale line of flesh surrounded by a clear tan, most likely works at the Yard as if he knew me personally he wouldn't be here as I would have called myself a cab, he knows my name so knows John or Lestrade, high chance of him actually being the latter, friendly but can be easily frustrated, not good to be cryptic around him, slightly above average intelligence and loyal. A trait I can admire. I make my way over to him. “DI Lestrade, I'm assuming?” He turns to look at me and his eyes widen slightly, probably didn't know I was so short… He gulps and nods his head. There’s a slight attraction. Interesting, most men shrink away when they look at me, the cold eyes I suppose. “Shall we get going?” Blushing slightly, definite attraction, he nods again, throws the paper into a bin and leads me out of the airport.

“Um… I hope you don't mind me asking… how old are you?” I guess I must look young for my age.

“33. Why?” I glance up at him. 'He's actually kind of handsome, but not my type, then again I'm not one for romance.'

“You look younger than that is all… you're a bit younger than John and Sherlock.” He states. 'So Sherlock is older than me…'

“Yes I am, and you're clearly wondering how I know John, we grew up near each other, he stopped a group of moronic children bullying me for being different and we've been close since.” I flash him a small smile from which he returns. He stops a cab and helps me place my luggage in the boot of the car. I thank him and climb in and he follows soon after.

  
“Where to?” The driver asks.

“221C Baker Street.” He nods and starts driving while Lestrade looks at me questioningly. “John suggested I try to move in there, I'm guessing he lives nearby to that address.” He quickly nods.

“He lives in the flat above it, 221B.” 'That's why the address sounds familiar then.' The conversation goes dry as the driver carries on the tedious drive to my soon-to-be new home.

 **Comments (2)**  
ElleNess: So this is what you’re doing!  
KathNess: BLOCKED!


	3. Finding Home

The cab soon came to a stop in Baker Street. The ride was boring as expected but Lestrade was able to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation. 'I will inquire about his first name at a later date.' I think to myself as I climb out of the vehicle. I walk to the boot and collect my various belongings as Lestrade pays the driver. I look toward the door. It was a simple door, painted black a while ago as the paint has aged. The knocker to the side and the address 221B in a golden coloured metal. Before I took a step closer toward the door, an elderly woman peaks out from the door then widens it suddenly. “Oh hello there Greg, dear! Who's this?” 'Well she's certainly sprightly, lucky for her I have a small self-policy of not deducing elderly people unless a case calls for it.'

  
“Oh this is Kathryn, she's a friend of John's. She's looking to move into 221C.” He replies politely. She nods and looks at me with a look of… was that mischief? 'I have a feeling I won't be bored here.'

  
“Oh! Come right this way dear, it's a bit of a 'fixer-upper' but I'm sure you can do a fantastic job, it's empty so you can do what you want with it!” She explains as she leads me through the ground floor hallway and to the padlocked door of 221C, opening the padlock she hands the padlock and key to me before opening the door. The flat has mostly fallen off, old wallpaper, and what seemed to be two mirrors near the off-white fireplace. “The rent isn't that much and a bit less because you're a friend of John.” Well, that's nice but what has my relationship with John got to do with rent?

  
“Oh please ma'am, I'll pay the normal rent, no special treatment please.” I give a sincere smile and she returns it.

  
“It's Mrs Hudson, dear, and remember, I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper.” 'What an odd statement to make must be due to John and Sherlock.' I nod and she leaves to collect the main key. Upon returning I hold up a handful of money and she replaces the money with two keys, one to the building and one to the flat. “You didn't have to pay upfront dear but I can already tell you're stubborn, so I won't argue.” And with that, she leaves me with my thoughts. 'Where did Lestrade go?' And as if he heard my thoughts he walks in with a fairly tall man with dark curly locks and cheekbones so sharp they look like they could cut diamonds. He's a recovering addict… 'Now don't go deducing your neighbours, they won't like that!' My more 'human' side of myself reminds me. I listen to it and plaster a smile on my face and hold out my hand.

  
“Mr Holmes, I'm assuming,” I state rather than ask, he quickly looks over me and I deduce that he is deducing me. I let my hand fall, not caring if it seemed rude, it's not like he was going to shake my hand.

  
“Kathryn Ness, 33 years of age, friends with John, not just friends but best friends; you have a tan so came from somewhere hot, most likely the US because you have a slight accent due to the amount of time you stayed there, roughly 18 years due to the accent being stronger than it would be if you had come back from holiday or stayed for a couple of years. Above average intelligence and knows it. Dislikes spiders. Londoner as you feel comfortable with the area but you're having to readjust from being away for so long, moved as a teenager due to an indecent, probably due to a spider. Sociopath but not on the same level as me. Blood analyst for 10 years now. Confident in your skills… anything I got wrong?” Cocky… would be impressive if John hadn't of informed him of most of that. Lucky for me I picked up on the errors.

  
“It was 16 years, I'm terrified of spiders not just dislike them, an analyst for 8 years, only John knows the cause of the accident was a spider, and I would be impressed if you actually were able to deduce that without John informing you beforehand.” And silence soon followed from all three of us before Lestrade spoke up.

  
“Bloody hell Sherlock, she caught you out. Definitely glad she'll be working at the Yard now, maybe she can translate some of the things you say.” He says while smiling at me.  
“Indeed...” 'Well someone's not a very happy bunny… oh god, I just reminded myself Bonnie from Five Nights at Freddy's, damn my nicer co-workers for daring me into playing that game!'

  
“May I know the whereabouts of our mutual friend?” He looks shocked at my formality but nods.

  
“He's up in our flat.” I nod my head and make my way up the stairs to 221B with the boys trailing behind and walk in as Sherlock forgot to lock the door.

  
“Sherlock? Is that you?” I hear John call out from what is possibly the kitchen.

  
“Yes, John, Lestrade and a guest are here as well.” Sherlock replies and John walks out of the room, immediately looking at the curly haired man.

  
“Lestrade and a guest? You didn't do anything stupid, did you? You were only out for a couple of minutes Sherlock!” He exclaims before his eyes drifted to me, he does a double-take before running over and engulfing me into a hug with a grin. “Kathryn! I didn't realise you'd come straight to Baker Street!” I chuckle under my breath and hug him back.

  
“I thought it would best to get a place to stay before heading off to start any work. That and I wanted to see my friend.” I reply and his smile just seems to grow. He sticks his index finger up in the air to indicate that he'll be back in a minute before walking back into the kitchen, probably to make tea. That's one of the first things he usually does when I visit. Hot tea, slightly milky with one or two sugars. Perfection. I begin to look around the room.

  
A table between the two large windows, a fairly messy bookshelf by the wall on each side of the fireplace, similar to two very different chairs, one seems very plain with a metal frame showing while the other is an armchair with a blanket covering the back of it and a Union flag sat between the arms. On the fireplace was a display of what appeared from where I was standing to be a bat, next to it was what seemed to be a real human skull. 'I'll have to ask about that later.' And above the fireplace was a mirror. Near where Sherlock, Lestrade and I were standing there was a sofa, a picture of a skull with a blue background, a bookshelf which seems a tad more organised than the others, and on the wall was a… yellow graffiti smiling face with bullet holes littering the lines in the face. Interesting. Other various things like books, pictures and lights were littered around the room. What caught my interest the most was the violin case in the corner of the room, most likely Sherlock's as John doesn't play. 'I wonder if he'll play for me.' I personally prefer the piano.

  
The smell of tea soon fills the room, blocking all my thoughts as my body screams at me, indicating its thirst, not for knowledge as usual, but fluids. John hands me a plain white mug full of one of the best drinks available in the UK. I quickly take in several mouthfuls and wipe my mouth as John chuckles. “You should remember to drink more, being without liquids for too long is dangerous for you.” Of course, expect him to give me a health lecture. What more than the predictable doctor routine to seal the deal that my friend is here with me.

  
“I know John, you always remind me of that. It's become far too predictable.” We chuckle together and he nods towards the sofa and we both sit down and begin filling each other of the years we spent apart.

  
Little did John and I know that Sherlock was busy away in his own little world with Lestrade becoming increasingly frustrated as the dark-haired man wouldn't answer him. However, he soon stalked over to his chair and sat down, picking up his violin and begins to play Vivaldi's Spring from the composition 'The Four Seasons'. My favourite piece out of the four of them… how did he know? I slowly begin to close my eyes to enjoy the music and explore my mind mansion. The room related to all things about my best friend had new information so had to be rearranged, the various maps I stored in my mind had to be adapted to my new environment and the old ones featuring where I lived in the US was to be removed. I skip around my mind in tune with the classical piece of art. I became so enthralled with Sherlock's playing and sorting out the various information I didn't realise John was trying to get my attention. He plays so magnificently… it's soul capturing. Then the thought came to me. 'I never want to leave, Baker Street is now, and forever my home.' Home with my best friend, his fantastic sociopathic violinist, the sweet landlady, and the charming Detective Inspector. Yes… this is home.

 **Comments (3)**  
GregLestrade: Charming, huh?  
KathNess: You are a master of good first impressions.  
GregLestrade: Well, thanks!


	4. A 'Unique Meeting' with Mr M. Holmes

It took a couple of weeks for me to settle into the time zone difference, moving and buying things in the flat as well as adjusting to my new job. Lucky for me only John and Mrs Hudson helped, Sherlock, was too busy in his mind palace. 'A mind palace. He thinks so highly of himself. A mind mansion is more practical, especially with modern times. He must be very creative though… I wonder what it is like in his mind.'

  
Upon making my way back from the shops, since Sherlock wouldn't do it and John always had arguments with the self-checkout machine, I volunteered as tribute to collect the shopping for both flats, well technically just the one flat as there's still a ton to do with mine, like buy a fridge and freezer… John let me share his room with him. I stopped and looked to my left to see the car that had been following me for a while slow down to a stop. The window rolled down and a woman simply stated. “Get in the car.” I raise my eyebrow.

  
“I'd really rather not,” I say with a small smirk as I continue walking once again. I chuckle to myself and stop in front of the building I now call home. I unlock the door and put the bags inside and to the side of the door before closing the door and turning towards the car again to find the woman had stepped out. She grabs my arm and pushes me into the car. 'Rude.'

  
The car drove for a while before stopping in front of an abandoned warehouse. The rude woman grabs me again and drags me inside. 'She's not worth my time to deduce.' I thought just before I was lead to a slightly plump man, to put it nicely. “What is your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?” 'Really? This is about Sherlock? How dull… but this man appears to know more than what his body is telling me.'

  
“Just an acquaintanceship. We share a mutual friend and we live in the same building, I'm also staying in his flat until my flat is fully furnished. Anything else you'd like to ask?” And now he's curious.

  
“Who exactly are you?” 'Hm… ah… I know who he is. Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother by roughly seven years… he's smarter than Sherlock, by a lot… he clearly surpasses my mental abilities.'

  
“Kathryn Ness, a childhood friend of John's. I'm a blood analyst, I work for the Yard, I'm a sociopath and I know for a fact you can deduce this and there’s a high chance you've already looked into who I am, Mr Holmes. So why ask what you already know? Now, why am I here?” Now he looks really surprised.

  
“Very well. I want to ask you to give my information on my brother, I'm worried about him. In return, you'll be paid for that information.” 'Is that all? Then again we could have some fun with this…I doubt he’ll double check the information'

  
“Fine, I accept your offer, Mr Holmes.” And with that, we shook hands and his 'charming' assistant takes me back to Baker Street. Upon the car driving away from the building of 221, John and Sherlock rush out curious as to where I have been, but of course Sherlock, being Sherlock, soon deduces that I met his brother.

 

 **Comments (1)**  
SherHolmes: I'm honestly glad he didn't go overboard, John wouldn't react well to something like that.


	5. A New Victim and a New Emotion

You know, most people have a very relaxed day on a Sunday. They usually just sit around and watch reruns all day, well I think that's what a normal person would do anyway. It's what I would do if I was normal. Probably watch Doctor Who or Supernatural until it's Monday and I have to work again… But then again, I'm not normal, and I'm not most people. However, my Sundays don't usually involve me going to a crime scene.

  
The day started pretty much like normal. I wake up, I walk to the kitchen, say hello to the head in the fridge and get something to eat. Yes, I'm still staying at Sherlock and John's. I then quickly grab my clothes for the day and head to the bathroom to get changed before making tea for the boys with some breakfast for them. What was different however was that I didn't get a chance to say hello when Sherlock emerged from his room as it was in a hurry as he ran to grab his coat and scarf. “We have a case, John!” He called up the stairs before walking over to the table and threw me my phone. I checked it to find several missed calls and texts from Lestrade. A new victim from the murderer we have been after for a while now. John soon slumped into the room wearing his normal outfit, looking still very tired with bed hair to match, he walked over to me and laid his head on my shoulder groaning tiredly as he did so. “Come on John!” Sherlock groaned, frustrated that his companion wasn't more excited for a new case like he was, to which the shorter man glared at him.

  
“It's 6 AM on a Sunday morning, Sherlock!” John whined.

  
“Crime never sleeps, John!” Sherlock exclaimed before grabbing my jacket and throwing it at me and rushing out. I quickly put it on and pulled John along by the hand while trying to keep up with the consulting detective's fast pace and long strides. Which is not an easy task, mind you. Soon we arrived at the crime scene only to see Anderson's idiotic face. Just being near him is mind-numbing. I avoid him at almost all costs usually. Refusing to look at him, I pull John over to the body to get an early inspection while Sherlock shows off.

  
And that leads us to here. John and I staring at a man's body. Nothing connecting the victims apart from the style they're killed in. Very messy work, the killer shows no sign of trying to adapt or perfect their killing technique. A ton of blood everywhere… the body in the middle of the room. Middle-aged. Banker. Not particularly skilled in much. Never been married. Wouldn't be missed… a difference in the pattern? Very slight… the others had family… this man was alone. Maybe he knew the killer. Soon my mind, as if like clockwork, started looking for patterns in the blood. I was a blood splatter analyst, after all, it's a habit. The blood splatters didn't match the various stab wounds that littered the poor man's torso. The wounds must have been made after the victim died… that means the blood doesn't belong to him. “We need to collect the blood and test it with the present victim's DNA.” That made heads turn.

  
“But it's clearly from the victim, why would you think otherwise?” Anderson's voice filled the air. Sherlock is not the only person I hear 'Punch me in the face' in subtext while they talk.

  
“Because the blood splatters don't match the wounds, isn't that right Kathryn?” Thank the lord we have men like Lestrade. I nod my head and start explaining that the person who was stabbed would have to be standing up for the blood to splatter the way it has while the victim was clearly lying down as he was stabbed, most likely already dead as the blood from the wounds didn't flow right.

  
Sherlock soon after began his magic, stating what I had deduced in my head and linking him to a nearby bank which the previous victim had been seen visiting and withdrawing a suspicious amount of money. And the man that had helped that victim had been this victim. But this brings us to the problems that will probably slow the case down, where was this man killed? Who was originally killed here? Why are patterns just showing up now? And the most important, who did this? Whoever it was has now run into a problem. The problem can be split up into four sections. Sherlock, John, the Yard and I. The Yard are less of a problem than the rest of us because they're all idiots, well apart from one or two. But that might be me being biased.

  
It took a while for enough blood to be collected as it began to dry rapidly and the rest that couldn't be collected was cleaned away as blood in a cinema bathroom was unsanitary, but that's just stating the obvious, the less obvious reason was that the owner was having a temper tantrum and wanted the blood and the Yard gone. It was 1 PM now, we had spent 7 hours talking to the Yard, collecting samples, taking photos, cleaning up the blood and moving the body. I held John's hand for most of it as he kept drifting off back to sleep. Several times during those 7 long hours I noticed Sherlock glance at John and I's intertwined hands. I deduced he was curious on how close John and I really were and if anything was happening between us. In all honesty, I see John as a brother, that's how I've always seen him. Sure he had a crush on me when we were younger but that changed after I told him I didn't feel the same way and ever since then we've acted just like we do now.  
“Sherlock, John needs sleep, let's head back to the flat. No point in beating a dead horse.” I state and lead John away. I hear Sherlock mutter under his breath before following John and I. He calls for a cab and then we journey back home.

  
The journey was fairly awkward. John was sleeping on my shoulder, Sherlock was muttering to himself and the driver kept trying to make conversation, lucky the drive was short so it didn't last too long. After we arrived back at the flat I laid John on his bed, then I decided to watch TV in the front room, hoping Sherlock wasn't there so I could watch Supernatural. Unfortunately for me, he was laying across the sofa, so I made a cup of tea and sat in his seat. “You could've sat in John's seat you know.” 'Ah, so he's not in his mind palace.'

  
“Yours is next to the window and has a better view of the room,” I state with a shrug as he leans up from the lying position he was previously in and looks at me with an eyebrow raised. 'He's truly something to admire…' And for one of the first times in my life… I agree with the side that I always deemed to be useless but could it be… that this man who is so much like me and yet so different has caught my interest in a way no one else could? This requires experimenting… very controlled experimenting… I can't let this get out of control.

  
“Very well...” Is all he said before he went back into his mind palace leaving the room silent once again. Using this chance I pull my knees up and hug them as enter my mind mansion. The room with things relating to John was fully updated but a new room next to it was added and filled with everything to do with Sherlock, from the way his curls bounce to his adorable real smile. Seems like my subconscious has been busy. The room isn't very big but still big enough to concern me. I step out of the room and wander into storage where various files not important enough for a room but important enough to not just be stored normally are held. This is usually where I put cases I've worked on or am currently working on. I look through what I know about serial killers. All adapt… all change the way they kill to perfect their technique… most, if not all, have a pattern which they follow. But this is usually obvious from the beginning so why has a pattern only started to appear? We're missing something… something hiding in plain sight and it's driving me crazy! “You're not breathing.” Sherlock states and snaps me out of my thoughts. I take a couple of deep breaths as I realise he was telling the truth.

“Sorry, was busy thinking” He raised an eyebrow. 'Damn that eyebrow raise.'

  
“Thinking leads you to not breathe?” He asks before standing up and making his way to me. “I don't think that's healthy.”

  
“Neither is smoking but you still do it,” I reply with a chuckle and he rolls his eyes.

  
“I'm being serious.” He states, bending down to try and get to my eye level. 'He has gorgeous eyes…' 'Stop it.'

  
“So am I.” He chuckles slightly and looks directly into my eyes. I study his eyes and find that his pupils dilated slightly. 'He feels the same? No… that's a guess… guessing is bad, it's not accurate.'

  
Without realising it we both inched closer… so close to doing something I've been warned against… something I've never done before… an intimate touch…  
“Anyone else hungry?” John's voice broke through our moment of weakness and we snap apart from each other. We turn to look at him as he walks in and simultaneously nod. “Alright, I'll go get something, be back in a bit!” He calls out as he grabs his jacket and leaves. Sherlock and I turn to look at each other. Just one question now filled our minds.

What the hell was that?

 

 **Comments (4)**  
JohnWatson: OMG  
KathNess: What?  
GregLestrade: Now I know why John told me to look at this, omg…  
KathNess: What’s gotten into you two?


	6. The Music Box

After what happened before John walked in to ask if we were hungry, I got my flat ready as fast as I could and moved what was mine from their flat to mine. Moments of weakness, they scare me, they've rarely happened to me before. Usually, it's an animal that sparks it, I can't stand an animal to be harmed…

  
Anyway, that was a few months ago. I've tried my best to stay away from him, but that was seemingly impossible with each new victim. There's a clear pattern by now. Each victim has met the previous, usually through some sort of transaction whether it be money or just trading things. So this person clearly stalks their victim… and it's likely the victim knows this and tells someone, who then become the next victim. A gory cycle, to which we have to put an end to.

  
Mycroft has been a thorn in my side during the months I've avoided Sherlock. Always asking information, lucky for me he never double checks this information, like I predicted, so I can lie to him, although I'd be lying to myself if I say he hasn't been interesting company and his constant questions ease my boredom, even by a little to which I'm sure John is thankful for, as I have yet to blow anything up or mess around with paint.

  
Sherlock's been acting odd since my boycott against him, or at least that's what John had been informing me without my wanting of the subject. Let me explain how Sherlock's version of 'odd' had been concerning John at the beginning of the boycott; has a blush, smiles a lot more although it's a very subtle smile, he's been experimenting less, and playing the violin more and less harshly than what he usually does. The last one I was aware of, as I could hear it from my flat. However, for the last month that has changed drastically, he, apparently, is acting a lot colder than usual, eating less, thinking more and talking less. He's clearly figured out I'm avoiding him and not anyone else…

  
Distracted, I turn my head towards an old music box. I blink and stand up in alarm. That's not mine… I've always hated music boxes, the ones I had as a child always played creepy music and gave me nightmares. I slowly make my way to the cracked, dull brown, dust sheeted box in curiosity… 'Curiosity killed the cat y'know…' 'But satisfaction brought it back.' I argue with myself as I pick up the well-loved piece of musical decoration. The key has been replaced, too clean to be as old as the box, and it's been removed a lot, there are a lot of scuffs on the key and the hole where the key is placed. With a few turns of the key, the tune of a creepy version of London Bridge Is Falling Down plays. Usually where a dancer or a girlish charm would be was a magpie, interesting choice of bird… I close the box as the song draws to an end and the magpie stops spinning. 'I'll get Mycroft to investigate thi-' My thoughts are cut off by rapid knocking at the door. “Who is it?” I ask, in hopes that it was John coming to ask if he could use my kitchen as Sherlock had used theirs for experiments again but I had no such luck.

  
“It's Sherlock.” 'Oh he doesn't sound happy…' 'Maybe that's because the girl he clearly fancies has been avoiding him for no reason!' 'I have a perfectly understandable reason as to why I've been avoiding him!' 'Ah yes, you're scared. Scared of rejection most likely.' Sherlock has a Mycroft in real life, I have one in my damn head. “Kathryn! Let me in! I just want to talk!” 'Well, now he just sounds desperate' 'Shut up.'

  
“O-one moment!” I stutter out as I scramble to hide the box. It was as if I was a child with something they shouldn't have and they didn't want to be caught with it in fear of being punished. Once the box was out of sight but certainly not out of mind, I straighten my clothes, put the door on the latch and open the door. “Hello there Sherlock, it's been a while!” I exclaim, playing innocent but looking down, knowing my act would be over if I looked at him.

  
“It certainly has. Almost three months now if I'm not mistaken.” He replies, not amused by my play. “Why have you been avoiding me, Kathryn?” I look up at him with fake confusion, a move I soon regret as I take in his appearance. Damp curls cling to his forehead, water dripping off of the curls that stick out against the rest, that damn purple shirt that clung to him due to his drying skin, his eyelashes with tiny droplets of water hanging from them, slightly parted pink slips, his scent stronger than ever, a strange yet wonderful mix of cigarettes, old books and something else that I could only describe as him. He, very obviously, recently got out of the shower and probably decided to talk to me during such, he was in a rush to do so, some of the buttons on his shirt are done incorrectly showing the rush he was in. “If I was the type to flirt I'd say 'Like what you see?' because it looks like you're checking me out.”

  
“Just deducing why you look a mess,” I say with a sarcastic smile.

  
“I needed to talk to you before you rush off to work, you've been using a very well planned routine to avoid me, it took a while to learn due to um…” He coughs. “Distractions that have occurred throughout the months you've spent your time avoiding me. But I couldn't help but notice, even without you physically being there, you still managed to help us keep up with rent. I spotted the unmarked envelopes of money. You're playing my brother for a fool and it's working, clever, wish John did that. Speaking of John, you've been keeping up to date on how I am.” An almost mischievous spark in his eyes can be seen. 'What exactly is he thinking?'

  
“Not willingly, John tends to… waffle on… when it comes to friendly conversation.” I shrug. He looks down as if he's disappointed. “So, you've been acting odd apparently.”  
“Apparently...” 'Well this is awkward.' We stay in silence for a couple of minutes before he clears his throat. “I should be going… this was- It was pleasant talking to you again.” And with that, he left. I close the door and walk back to where I placed the music box but froze shortly after. 'I-It's gone… how is it gone?!' My thoughts were interrupted by my phone vibrating, indicating I had a text. 

**Murderer stuck again, get to the Yard ASAP, don't tell Sherlock.**   
**GL**

  
**Will do sir**   
**KN**

  
In a rush, I collect my bag, throw on my jacket and my simple khaki green military style cap I got as a present from Harry, John's sister. As I stepped out of the building another text arrives.

**Like my little gift?**   
**JM**

  
'Who is this guy?'

  
**Who are you? How did you get my number? And how did you get into my flat?!**   
**KN**

  
**All in good time, lil flame.**   
**JM**

  
'Oh good, he's aware of the fire incident…'  
  
And with that, the texting stops. 'Let's just get to the Yard before Greg hunts us down. Again.' 'Agreed.' As I walk I remember the last time I was late for work, it was because a neighbour was having trouble starting their car so I decided to help, 10 minutes later Greg shows up to collect me just to see me half way under a car and covered in muck. Turns out Greg panicked and decided to find me in case Sherlock got us into any trouble so he was very relieved to know I was just helping a neighbour with his crappy car. When I finally arrive at the Yard Greg runs over, grabs my arm and drags me to the crime scene, an abandoned factory.

  
After he finally stops pulling me along he goes to this lecture on to remain calm before entering. I walk over to the body as I'd usually do but this time… I froze (for what seems to be the hundredth time) halfway. The body was of a baker I visited last week, I was getting some cupcakes for Mycroft as he was due to see me that day. I look to the side of the body to see

  
**You're next Miss Ness.**

  
'So this is why he told me to remain calm… I'm next… explains why he told me not to tell Sherlock. But why leave a message to let me know I'm next… why change their routine to do something that could get them caught? Unless… that's what they want… the style of the stabbings is different… planned… but what do they hope to achieve?'

  
During my distracted ramblings, I look to the corner of the room. 'The music box… JM. He must've been here.' I walk over to the box which sat on old, rotting wooden crates which the smell of damp wood emitted from, but another smell arose. 'Granted there was a dead body nearby but it wouldn't be that strong it would overtake a smell that's right under my nose unless there's another source…' I look behind the rotten crates to see another body. I look at the music box to see a small piece of paper being held down by one of the legs of the box. I slide the paper out from under the leg and I study it. The paper was new and crisp despite the fact it was pressed down by the box leg, it was a small piece of paper, A5 in size and folded in half like a card, the outside was blank apart from a singing… magpie. I quickly open it to see a message that had been typed out to avoid recognition of the handwriting but I knew who it was. JM.

  
**He was an interesting pawn but he was going too far lil flame. He was going to kill you but I've barely got to see what you can do, after all, we've barely got to play! Don't block my number now lil flame~ I'll text you soon but I'd love it if you'd call~**

  
'He's insane! Fine, want me to call you? I'll call.' I walk over to Greg, tell him about the second body and leave with the note folded in my hand so no one knows I've taken it before taking out my phone and dialling JM who I will now call 'Mr Magpie'.

  
It wasn't long before he answered. “You called~!” An Irish voice sang out childishly.

  
“Of course I did, curiosity killed the cat-”

  
“But satisfaction brought it back. I love that saying, don't you?” I sigh. “Oh don't sound so glum, we'll play soon enough, I assure you.” 'He's going to get on my nerves.'  
“What's with the music box?”

  
“A small gift from me, I thought you'd like it but don't tell anyone or there'll be severe consequences.” 'Why do I have a feeling he's not joking?'

  
“I won't tell anyone, it would be boring if I did, they'd ruin the game that's to come,” I reply, telling him what he probably wants to hear, which worked as I planned as he practically squeals happily like a pig in a blanket in my ear.

  
“I'm so glad you feel the same way! Talk to you soon lil flame~!” He purrs out before hanging up. Let's just hope the game isn't too deadly…

//Just an editing note, this page and the next two are posted on the same day. And I won’t tell anyone about this update of events. - KN

  
** Comments (0) **


	7. A Day With Johnny

Paranoid. That's how I spent the last few weeks. I didn't know when or if Mr Magpie would make his first move. I've been waiting on his call and I think Sherlock has noticed how jumpy I've become over the time period after the murderer got a taste of his own medicine, he's been keeping an extra close eye on me, so has Mycroft, it's getting annoying. At least Mycroft has decided that it was inconvenient to continuously 'kidnap' me and take me to some abandoned building, now he actually arranges visits. “Kathryn, you okay?” Sherlock spoke up, destroying the silence suddenly causing me to jump. “Clearly not… why did I bother asking?” He asked himself before shaking his head and walking over to me. I was sat in John's chair in my thinking position and Sherlock, before walking over to me, was in his chair watching me. He pushes away the hair covering my eyes and looks at me, those gorgeous eyes full of concern. “Do I need to get John…? …I'm going to get John…” He says as he walks towards the door.

  
“Sherlock?” I say out of the blue.

  
“Yes?”

  
“Thank you for being there for me these past few weeks, you didn't have to...”

  
“I… wanted to be there for you, and I… I… um...” 'That's odd.'

  
“What's wrong?”

  
“N-nothing… nothing at all. Want some more tea?” 'Liar… something is wrong.'

  
“Yeah, thanks.”

  
“No problem.”

  
“I thought you were going to get John...”

 

  
“…I am…” 'He doesn't want to get John… why?'

  
And with that… he left. Not too long after, John walks in. “Hey Shortcake.” He says with a smile.

  
“Hey, Johnny,” I reply, opening my arms to which he responds by hugging me.

  
“I'm glad you're okay Shortcake, but would you at least tell me what you're shaken about?” 'I have to tell him.'

  
“I-it's- you know the murderer that was found dead?” 'But I can't.'

  
“Yeah, at the crime scene that Sherlock and I weren't called to...”

  
“He was after me...”

  
“So this is all shock?” I reply with a nod. I couldn't bring myself to tell him… I don't know what Mr Magpie would do to him if I told him… I'm not risking it. “Hey let's go get some ice cream.” I look up at him with a grin on my face. What can I say? I love ice cream. I might have an addiction to sugar...He chuckles and stands up. “Let's go!” He exclaims, grabbing his jacket and walking out of the door, I run after him grabbing my jacket and hat.

  
The day was filled with Johnny and I messing around like we did as children, even scaring pigeons. Scaring pigeons. How childish yet fun! We had three cones of ice cream each before he ended up with a brain freeze and he gave me a quick tour around London and telling me of all the things that had happened in his time as Sherlock's friend. And now, here we are, sitting in Speedy's having a nice coffee. “So… what's with you and Sherlock?” John asks after placing his cup down on the table between us.

  
“Nothing as far as I'm aware of. Although we're certainly not just acquaintances any more. I'm just not sure what it's changed into...”

  
“I think it's cute that you finally have a crush on someone, but Sherlock? He's...”

  
“Married to his work.” We say together.

  
“And I don't have a crush on him, where on earth did you get that idea?” 'LIES'

  
“Kathryn, you're my friend, I think by now I should know when you like someone, also I listen in on when you mumble as you're thinking, but that’s because it's hard to know what's going on in your head sometimes… I feel left out. But I'm glad we got to have this time together, and act like a couple of morons in the park. I missed doing things like this.” He says with a smile and I return it.

  
“I'm glad we did this too, you're an incredible person and I doubt I could find another friend like you!” I grin and him and he replies with his own grin.

  
Several hours pass and we were still chatting away that we didn't even know Sherlock had walked in and took a seat next to us, or should I say me. “Hello.” His voice chips into the conversation causing me to jump.

  
“Oh, bloody hell! Don't do that, Sherlock!” I say with a laugh. He chuckles slightly and… blushes? 'Seems like you're not the only one who has a crush~' 'Shut up.'

  
“Sorry lo- Kathryn.” 'Holy shit he was about to call me love.' John looks between us, his knowing smile growing at the sight, feeling smart as he saw something the two sociopaths refused to, and to prove this he grabs both of one of our hands and cuffs them together. My right and Sherlock's left. We look at him confused as he stands up and leaves.

  
“Have fun you two!” 'THAT EVIL SON OF A BIT-'

 

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	8. Cuffs and Dreams

32 hours. 32 hours is how long John left Sherlock and I cuffed together. 32 hours Sherlock dragged me around, mostly because a case came up. No one from the Yard decided to help, and it was extremely awkward when one of us needed the toilet. I mean seriously, we had to be in the same room, we could hear each other go, that's something NO ONE wants to go through. 32 damn hours… Sherlock and I got no sleep, mostly because Sherly wouldn’t let me sleep, and because of that I felt like I was about to collapse and Sherlock was making me sit in the kitchen as he experimented, because he moved his arm a lot, I decided to sit on the floor and allow him to pull my arm around. I slowly closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off to sleep.

  
I had no idea how much time passed when I seemingly awoke but I was in Sherlock's bedroom with him straddling me. We were no longer cuffed. 'When did he…?' He smirked and leaned closer. “Happy to see me love~?” He purred out. He leaned forward, slowly taking that sexy purple shirt of his off before throwing it to the side and placed his hands on either side of my head. 'Oh god yes…' 'This should be interesting.' “Let's have some fun~” He purred out sexually as one of his hands slid down my body and he leaned in close. 'Just a little more…' “Kathryn, wake up. It's morning.” 'Huh?' “Wake up!”

  
Suddenly I jolted awake and looked around the room, Sherlock's bedroom… I had only been there several times before… usually to drag Sherlock to bed so he'd sleep… I turned my head to see Sherlock lying next to me concerned.

  
“You were moaning in your sleep...” 'That dream must have been after several others… explains the certain conditions of my body… hot, damp and… um… well, I'll just stop there.' “What were you dreaming about?” He asked, concerned or was that jealousy?

  
“Nothing important, those dreams shouldn't be happening in the first place.” 'Despite the fact that I love them…' He nodded as if he understands. 'Maybe he does.' 'Doubt it…'  
“I think it's best we get John to remove these cuffs… where did he get them from…?” With both of us stumped we just shrug it off as unimportant.

  
“Okay, I'm coming in, you two better be decent!” 'Lestrade?!' Said man walked in moments later with his eyes closed.

  
“We're decent Graham,” Sherlock muttered, not remembering Greg's name. Lestrade soon opened his eyes and held up the key to the cuffs. 'That explains a lot…'

  
“My name is Greg, Sherlock. How is that so hard to remember?” Lestrade asked frustratedly.

  
“Not important.” Is the only reply he got and to which he rolled his eyes.

  
“Typical. Hey Kathy.”

  
“Hey Greg...” 'This is so awkward….'

  
Turned out John thought it would be a good idea for Sherlock and I to be cuffed together for an unknown reason and got Greg to supply the handcuffs. After Greg unlocked the cuffs John walked in with a phone in his hand.

  
“Kath, your parents are visiting, says they'll be here tomorrow.” 'Well fu-'

 

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	9. The Parents Arrive

‘Please tell me he’s joking… please tell me he’s joking.’ I looked at John and he gave me an apologetic smile. ‘He’s not joking…’ ‘Why would he joke about something that cruel?’ ‘Shut up, don’t judge me!’ If you’re wondering why I was freaking out, let’s just say we stopped getting along when they sent me away and some other things that upset me greatly, they always held the belief that they could control my life. I lived with my cousin, received and ignored daily calls from my parents to my cousin’s amusement and to my parents’ annoyance. “Kathy, why do you look so worried…?” Greg inquired, curious as to why my face fell into a deep frown.

  
“My parents and I don’t have a particularly close relationship. To be honest, I would rather have them stay out of my life, they’re controlling, they sent me away because they didn't want to be ridiculed for an accident that I caused. I was forced to live with my uncle before my cousin, Gabe, stepped in and said I’d be living with him. Gabe was the one to get me into the forensics team originally. He died while out on a case and my parents couldn't care less. It was as if he was a stranger to them… It was his funeral when I decided that I would no longer call them ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ but rather by their names, much to their anger... Gabriel would be turning 39 this year… Anyway, that’s enough about me, Johnny and I have to prepare for the devil’s duo.” I said, shaking off the tears that threatened to fall and the vale of sadness that fell over me as I remembered my cousin. I bounced off of Sherlock’s bed and pushed John out of the room and down to my flat to prepare. There were waves upon waves of scenarios flooding my brain, I couldn't concentrate, I was so worried that they would force me away from John again.

  
“Kathy… I could just ask them to visit another ti-” John was cut off by my glare. “Right… I forgot it’s them, it’d just give them a reason to shout at you, sorry.” He apologised with a small smile, to which I replied with my own.

  
The next several hours were filled with cleaning, reorganising, dressing appropriately and waiting for the dreaded duo to show themselves. The flat was filled with a sense of gloom. John disliked my parents more than I. My parents saw themselves as better than others and were less than thrilled when their little girl got a boy for a first friend, let alone someone who wasn't as wealthy as they claimed to be. They were con artists who knew how to get away with their crimes. Rapid knocks came from the front door. They were here. John placed the teapot and the china cups on a tray that sat on the coffee table, the cream and sugar were already placed down and napkins were laid out on the corner of the tray. I stood and straightened out the dress I had changed into. It was a simple red business dress which a black belt around the waist. I had my hair up in a bun and has red heels to match the dress. I had minimal makeup on and a silver necklace around my neck. I hated this look but they’d expect nothing less. Slowly I opened the door to greet my ageing parents who were dressed as if they were meeting royalty but they always dressed like that, it was to show their wealth. ‘Disgusting.’ Of course, I agreed with the voice in my head.

  
“Ellen, Rodger, it's very nice to see you again, how are you?” I acted friendly, adding a posh tone to my voice. I hate them.

  
“Honestly Gayle, we're your parents, address us as such!” Ellen exclaimed angrily, using my real name. I prefer Kathryn… John walked over with a calm but irritated smile on his face. “Oh, hello, who are you?” 'How can't you recognise my best friend of 29 years?!’ ‘Calm…’

  
John sighed in frustration. “John H. Watson, you already know me…” He glared at the criminal that was my mother. It was obvious that he hadn't forgiven my parents for sending me away.

  
“Ah… Yes… The poor boy… I must say you don't look like your class any more so that's good but it's not nice to pretend to be something you're not.” She said, like the hypocrite she was. 'I will hit her...' It was clear John thought the same.

  
“Ellen, why don't we sit down and have some tea? They did go out of their way to get a fancy tea set.” Rodger said, annoyed at his wife. He always wanted to make a good impression. To be honest, he was my stepfather. He wasn't as bad as my mother but he found it hard to be sympathetic to the lower classes but he can't stand up to my mother for shit so he just followed the lead. And I just simply don't like him, he’s too secretive. Ellen nodded and sat down on the sofa, Rodger poured her a cup of tea. John and I just stood there, I slowly turned to my friend, a plan formed in my head, I wanted them to leave as soon as possible and only one man could embarrass them to the point of leaving.

"Watson, get Holmes.” John looked shocked at the fact I wanted him to get the detective but nodded and left to collect him. Sherlock walked in looking amazing as ever. That damn purple shirt. “Hello, Sherlock.” I greeted him and motioned for him to come in. He walked in and immediately began to deduce my parents.

  
“I feel sorry for you Kathryn,” Sherlock mumbled.

  
“Her name is Gayle! And who on earth are you?!” Ellen screeched, clearly feeling insulted. Her hawk-like ears in full swing.

  
“Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective for New Scotland Yard, neighbour and friend to your daughter and brother to Mycroft Holmes, a high ranking member of the British Government. So in laymen's terms, one wrong move and I get you arrested for every crime you have committed but you are Kathryn's parents so I won't report you right away.” He said with a smug smile. 'He’s angry… Why? Even John isn't this angry' 'Because he cares…He knows they hurt us and he cares too much to let it happen again, my dear.’   
After a while of barking and glaring at each other, my parents finally decided to leave. Once they left, I sighed a breath of relief and walked to my room to change into something comfortable but was stopped by Sherlock holding my arm. “Kathryn. I won't let you get hurt again.” And with that… He left.

 **Comments (3)**  
SherHolmes: I meant what I said.  
JohnWatson: The next time they try visiting, I won’t hold back my words.  
MHudson: Now, now boys. They wouldn't even make it past the front door.


End file.
